


What Matters Most

by hpstrangelove



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpstrangelove/pseuds/hpstrangelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Toreth is kidnapped and held for ransom by a team of corporate sabotage professionals, both Toreth and Warrick must decide what matters most to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Matters Most

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concernedlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/gifts).



> I assume that the reader has some knowledge of the Administration Series, along with some of the terms, technology, and politics of their world. However, you can still enjoy this story without knowing what any of these things are.
> 
> This is my Yuletide 2011 entry, written for concernedlily. Anyone who appreciates the Administration Series has a special place in my heart. I didn’t know if you’d only read the on-line version or the books, too; if you haven’t read the books, I tried to include enough information from them so that the story wouldn’t be too confusing. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Many, many thanks to joanwilder for SpaG, and to sestra-prior for BritPick.

~*~

 **What Matters Most**

During the years he and Warrick had been living together, Toreth had done his best to not dwell on the disparity in their incomes. Now, it could no longer be ignored. What had once been the size of a river had now become an ocean – or two. With the first payment made on the twenty-year licensing contract between SimTech and Compagnie des Alpes, the largest developer and operator of ski resorts, amusement parks, and entertainment complexes in the Administration and the Americas, Warrick was now an obscenely rich man.

When Warrick had first told him about the project, Toreth had been expecting Warrick to be coming home late every night, too tired for sex, like he’d been during the time of the evaluation of the Yes project. Instead, the opposite had been true. Warrick came home so wired up and full of energy that Toreth had been concerned, momentarily, that _he_ couldn’t keep up. The prototype of the virtual theme park had taken three months to create, and Toreth could honestly say that the sex during those three months was some of the best he’d ever had.

Which made his current situation that much more frustrating. Compagnie des Alpes had loved the design and promptly signed SimTech on to develop the first virtual theme park in the world. Everyone but Toreth felt like celebrating when the deal was announced. He didn’t mind, necessarily, SimTech’s success. What bothered him was the part of the contract that stipulated Warrick had to be ‘on-site’ to oversee the installation of the sim units – because ‘on-site’ was Strasbourg.

They’d talked it over – well, Warrick had talked while Toreth listened – before the contract was signed, and Warrick had assured him that he wouldn’t have to be in Strasbourg all the time, only when a sim unit was delivered and ready to be installed. He’d promised that he’d be home on weekends. Toreth wasn’t happy about it in the least, but he’d be damned if he’d let Warrick know it.

Today, exactly what he’d feared would happen, did.

“Toreth, I’m sorry – we ran into some unexpected problems in one of the ride simulation modules that had previously been tested and certified. I don’t know if it’s software or hardware related. I need to keep at it or we might miss the deadline. I know I said I’d be home for the weekend, but that’s not possible right now. I’m going to have to stay here until it’s fixed.”

They’d already had several disagreements about Warrick having to travel to Strasbourg so often. Toreth was sure that Warrick knew the real reason he was upset had more to do with the fact that Warrick was spending so much time in the same city where Carnac resided, rather than because they had to spend so much time apart.

“I don’t have anything pressing going on here. I can get a flight and be there in a few hours.” He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate.

“There really isn’t any point, as I won’t have time to spend with you. I have to keep at this until I identify the problem. I promise you, as soon as I diagnose the trouble, I’ll know which team to assign to it and then I’ll be straight home.”

 _SimTech_ – it was always fucking SimTech. It always had priority because it was what mattered the most to Warrick. It was petty, but Toreth knew what he could do to make himself matter, at least a little bit, while Warrick was fucking around with his sim.

“Fine. Don’t worry about it. If you don’t have time for me, I can always find someone who does.”

“Toreth –”

He cut the comm link before he had a chance to say something stupid that would prove just how pathetic he was about – well, just about everything these days.

Carnac was only a small part of it. The man had wormed his way back into their lives when he’d been hired by Compagnie des Alpes to do a safety evaluation of the project and to recommend an optimal maximum attendance figure. Up until the theme park idea, the greatest number of people who’d been inside the sim at the same time had been less than a hundred. There’d been the simulation of a riot, but that hadn’t used real people. Toreth had only been in the sim with Warrick, and then with Sara. He couldn’t imagine being in the sim with thousands of other people – real people – all at one time.

They’d had a bad few weeks of it while Carnac had been here in New London – Toreth couldn’t help but wonder how far Warrick would have been willing to go in order to get a positive evaluation. But Warrick had made sure that any time Carnac was at SimTech, they were never alone together. Asher or Lew had been there with them. In the end, Carnac had given the project a favorable review, no doubt as a means of having Warrick indebted to him.

Besides Carnac, it seemed every young pretty thing, male and female both, had their claws out to capture Warrick now that he was filthy rich. So many of them would make a better partner. Toreth already felt unworthy – the money just made it worse. He knew what they called him at work – the corporate’s concubine. He could never pin down who’d started it, but he’d give ten to one odds that it’d been Chevril.

Not that Warrick did anything to make him feel like a kept man. Warrick was always careful about money, about not flaunting it in Toreth’s face. Toreth wouldn’t even have known how much the theme park deal was worth if a SimTech security team hadn’t shown up unexpectedly one day at the flat to do a new threat assessment. Normally, an assessment was done at the beginning of the year. When he’d questioned why they were doing one in March when they’d just done one a few months earlier, Warrick had hesitated, then finally owned up to the fact that they were much higher profile targets for kidnapping and extortion, now that SimTech had signed a multi-billion euro contract.

“ _Billion?_ With a ‘b’?” he’d asked.

“Yes, but payments are spread out over the length of the contract. An initial payment has been made, but most of that is being used to fund production of the units. Still, the value of SimTech shares has increased ten-fold, so…”

He trailed off, probably concerned that they were headed towards a nasty row. To be fair, Toreth rarely was interested in SimTech finances, but this was different. Warrick should have told him about something big like this, which would impact both their lives so severely.

The row had occurred, several days later, but not over money. Not directly, anyway. The threat assessment had been completed, making some recommendations, recommendations that Toreth absolutely refused to take.

“I like to walk to work. I like going to Gegi’s and other – places. I’m not going to change my entire life just because SimTech security views what I do as ‘risky behavior’. I’ll move out if I have to before I let SimTech take over my life like it has yours.”

“Be reasonable,” Warrick said in that exasperatingly patient tone. “You don’t have to change anything. Just take – precautions. The technology is available – ”

“I’m not going to be tagged and tracked like a fucking pet! Besides, tracking chips are the first thing pro sabs check for. I don’t need to be having impromptu surgery as they stick a knife into me to dig out the chip.”

“It doesn’t work like that. If you’d let me explain – ”

“No! That’s enough. Now, I’m going out to display some ‘risky behavior’, so don’t wait up for me.”

He’d stayed away for three days, half of one night at Gegi’s and two and a half at Sara’s. Thank fuck she’d been between boyfriends. He hated the way they looked at him when he showed up at her flat at two o’clock in the morning.

Sara walked into the office, jerking his thoughts back to the present. She had two cups of coffee. Setting one down on his desk, she pulled up a chair and waited. She had an uncanny way of knowing when he and Warrick were at odds.

He took a sip of the coffee, trying to clamp down on the urge to lash out at her. She wasn’t the one he was upset with. Exhaling slowly, he said, “He’s not coming home tonight. There’s a problem and he has to stay and work on it until he knows if it’s hardware or software or some bullshit like that.”

There was a slight pause, then she said, “I just came in here to find out why it was taking you so long to approve the LNS transcript. I sent it an hour ago. Tillotson called to find out why the case is still pending.”

Shit. He called up the file. Sure enough, it showed she’d sent it to him right after lunch while he’d been on the comm to Warrick. He quickly looked it over, signed off on it and closed the case. “There, all done.”

“Fine, I’ll send it on to Tillotson. By the way, Cele, Dillian, and I are going out dancing tonight, if you feel like meeting up with us later. Dillian’s starting a new off-world contract in a week, so this is sort of a send-off celebration.”

He remembered Warrick mentioning Dillian’s new contract, but like most times her name came up, he only listened with one ear. There was an uneasy truce between them, after the incident at the house-warming party. She was polite whenever their paths crossed, but avoided him when she could. Which was fine by him because he could simply watch her from afar, falling into his daydreams of fucking her while he was being fucked by Warrick…

Sara cleared her throat and he remembered she was waiting for an answer.

“Sure, why not?”

~*~

Toreth stopped at the gym after work and lifted weights for an hour, then took a quick swim. Diving in always brought back the memories, but he refused to let them control him. It gave him a sense of power each time he beat back the fear. As he got out and dried himself off, someone he hadn’t seen there before was watching him from the observation gallery. When their eyes met, Toreth smiled at him – the man smiled back. Toreth turned and headed to the showers. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when a few minutes later, the man showed up in the showers, too.

Blond hair, brown eyes, a few centimeters taller than Toreth, nicely muscled but not overdone – he returned the man’s appreciative gaze. They didn’t say anything. It was quick and satisfying, the man’s mouth around his cock warm and wet and just the thing he needed to start the evening off.

He got the man’s name – Michael – and number, then headed home to eat dinner. Before each trip to Strasbourg, Warrick cooked up a supply of meals and left them in the freezer. He never said specifically he was doing it to keep Toreth fed while he was away, so Toreth felt free to eat anything that was there. After dinner, he changed into a clean shirt and trousers. Humming a tune off-key as he descended the stairs, he headed out the front door to find a taxi.

~*~

Dance places weren’t his usual venue, but he’d been to several while investigating crime scenes, and had an idea of how they were set up. They were normally located in a large warehouse, and consisted of one, huge room. There’d be a stage where either a live band played or computer equipment was set up to control the music output. In front of the stage would be the dance floor, surrounded by a waist-high rail or tables which non-dancers could lean against, trying to look cool while they drank and watched the action.

This place was different, nothing like he’d expected. If it hadn’t been for the line of people outside the front entrance, he’d have thought he had the wrong address. He bypassed the line by showing his I&I ID. When he first entered, he felt as if he’d walked into some rich corporate’s home. In front of him was a hallway, with several rooms off to the side. The one on the right was small, with comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. The lighting was subdued, the atmosphere quiet and cozy. There was a small bar to the side. It seemed like it was set up to be a place to take refuge when the ear-deafening music coming from elsewhere in the club got to be too much.

The room on the left was much larger. There was a circular bar in the center. To the left of the bar was a small dance floor, but it was empty. To the right was a larger dance floor and stage, and on stage were three scantily clad and very fit men, moving and gyrating in a suggestive manner. He watched them for several minutes before becoming bored. There were a few people standing around, admiring the men on stage, but no Sara, Cele, or Dillian.

He got a drink at the bar, then left the room and continued exploring. The toilets and coat check were further down the hall to the right, a place to buy snacks to the left. Where the hallway ended, it opened up into a huge room with loud, thumping music. There were two dance floors in the middle, lit from underneath by lights which pulsed in time to the music. Both were packed with people dancing. To the right and left of the doorway were stairs leading up to an observation floor. He thought he’d have a better view of the dancers from there, so took the stairs to the right. He’d barely started walking around the landing when he spotted Sara and Cele, both looking down at the dance floor below. He made his way through the crowd, then leaned in behind Sara and began thrusting slowly against her backside.

She whirled around. “Hey, who do you think –” Then she laughed when she recognized him. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

“Seven inches. Good to see you here,” Cele added. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s different. A bit loud for me, but –” He looked around, his gaze falling on an attractive woman nearby. “– it has potential. I thought Dillian was supposed to be here.”

“She is, down there, dancing.” Sara pointed. Toreth saw her at once, dancing with another woman. Hmm…wonder what Cele thought of that.

“She’s pretty good,” Toreth said after watching her for a few minutes.

“It’s not difficult. Just stand out there and move your hips in time with the music,” Sara said. “Almost the same as fucking, so you should be good at it.”

“Once was enough for me, even if I get to keep my clothes on here,” he said, referring to the time they’d all been at a strip club and he’d lost a bet to Warrick.

Cele leaned in so he could hear her over the noise. “I’m sure you could repeat your performance. You saw the stage in the other room?”

“Yes, and I’d much rather watch than be watched.”

Cele raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I hear.”

“I’m talking about dancing. Now if you mean sex –”

“Toreth. I was surprised when Sara told me you’d be here tonight. I wouldn’t think this was your kind of place.”

He hadn’t noticed when Dillian joined them. She was a bit out of breath, a light sheen of sweat coating her face and neck, no doubt the result of her dancing. His cock definitely appreciated the sight, and her frosty tone did nothing to dampen it down. He didn’t care how much she disliked him – after all these years, he still wanted to fuck her at least once before he died.

“It’s not, but I always like the challenge of trying something new.”

He turned to Sara. “I’m going to take a walk around, check out the scenery. I’m getting a bit cold standing here,” he said, with a glance at Dillian.

“Happy hunting,” Sara said. “I want to hear all about it on Monday.”

The place was huge, and crowded. The ages seemed to range from mid-twenties on up to the sixties. More often these days when he went into a pickup bar, he felt out of place, too old for the crowd. Not that he looked his age – liberal use of moisturizer and working out at the gym took care of that. He got several appreciative smiles and a few gropes as he worked his way around the landing. He thought for a moment he’d seen the man from the gym, but then the crowd closed in and he’d lost sight of him.

Occasionally, when his gaze wandered towards Sara, Cele, and Dillian, he could see Dillian watching him. Probably going to report back to Warrick what he did tonight and who he left with. Well, let her – he didn’t care. Being here was his second choice – if Warrick had come home as planned, he wouldn’t be here now.

“Would you like to dance?”

Toreth looked to his left. A petite, dark-haired woman stood next to him, wearing a black v-necked T-shirt and black form-fitting jeans. He could tell that her size was misleading – her arms looked toned and strong.

“I’d love to, except I don’t dance,” he said, but added a smile to let her know his refusal wasn’t a brush-off.

She smiled back. “That’s too bad. I was watching you as you walked through the crowd, and thought you had some nice moves.”

“Would you like a drink? We could go to that room near the entrance where it’s a bit quieter.”

“That’d be nice.”

They made their way through the crowd and out of the main room. As he left, he glanced back over to where Sara had been. Only Cele and Dillian were there. Then he saw Sara out on the dance floor – she and her partner bumping and grinding against each other suggestively. He could see why people liked to dance.

He bought them drinks and they settled onto one of the sofas. They made small talk for a while. Her name was Karen and she’d just moved to New London. She’d been hired as a fitness trainer at a corporation he’d never heard of. He hadn’t noticed it before, but away from the flashing lights, she appeared much younger than he’d originally thought. Still, she had to be in her late twenties, so it wasn’t like he was turning into a Lew Marcus yet.

It took another round of drinks and thirty more minutes of small talk before he managed to get an invite back to her flat, then two more drinks at her flat before they made it to the bedroom. It had been well worth the effort. The sex was good and she had a great body. The only downside to the evening was how tired he felt afterward. He didn’t like to think about it, but he was thirty-nine now, and couldn’t recover as quickly as he once had. Still, he didn’t normally feel this exhausted after just one fuck.

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that he was going to have to increase his time at the gym.

~*~

Toreth lay very still. Something was wrong but he couldn’t quite work out what. His head was throbbing, making it difficult to think. He slowly opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see a thing. The room was in total darkness. For a moment he was reminded of the cell he’d been locked in, back during the revolt a few years ago.

He tried to rub his eyes, but found he couldn’t move his arm. A sense of panic coursed through him when he realized that not only his wrists, but his ankles, too, were chained to the corners of the bed. He pulled against them, testing their strength – it was no use. The chains were too strong.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What the hell had happened? He tried to think back, but his memory was hazy. He had met Sara, Cele, and Dillian at some sort of dance club…he’d met someone there…a woman, cute, young. They’d had drinks, gone back to her flat, more drinks, great sex…then he’d fallen asleep soon after, which was unusual for him. He should have been up for at least another round or two of sex. So – had she drugged him? And if so, why?

He shivered slightly. The room was cold. Not only that – What the hell? He was naked too.

There was a strange smell to the room. He didn’t think he was at the woman’s flat anymore. This place smelled old and musty; a feeling of dampness and decay permeated the air. The river – he was somewhere near the river. He could hear it now, muffled sounds of water running nearby.

Before the fear of drowning could take hold, he heard footsteps coming close, wood creaking, a slight vibration in the floor beneath him. The door opened and a light switched on overhead, blinding him. He turned his face away and blinked several times, trying to get used to the light.

“Look at me.” A man’s voice, cold, commanding. God, he hoped it wasn’t a jealous boyfriend.

His first reaction was to spit out, ‘Fuck you,’ but common sense told him that wouldn’t be such a great idea, given his precarious situation. He didn’t know where he was or why he was here – the possibilities were endless – so until he had more information, best to play along.

Slowly, he turned his head to face the man. “Michael?”

The man from the gym was the last person he’d expected to see.

“You remember me. I’m surprised, given how many people you sleep with in a month. No matter – Michael isn’t my real name anyway. Now, I need to take a few pictures to prove that we have you and that you’re still alive, then you can go back to sleep.”

Toreth saw the hand screen, quickly turning his face away. He heard a muttered ‘fuck’. Good. The picture must have blurred. Hand screen photos were notoriously sensitive to fast movements.

He heard Michael approach, felt the bed dip as the man sat down. Oh hell. A cool hand began to roam over Toreth’s naked skin, starting at his collarbone, moving over his chest, down to his stomach…he knew what was coming next and he was helpless to stop it.

“That was a stupid thing to do. If you aren’t going to let me take your picture, then I will have to send Dr. Warrick something else of yours to prove to him we have you.”

The hand moved from his stomach, stopped a moment to thread fingers through his pubic hair, then wrapped around his balls.

“It’s your choice,” Michael said. “Hold still so I can take a few pictures or…” The hand cupping his balls squeezed tight…hard, harder…Toreth gasped in pain.

“I’ll hold still,” Toreth managed to say through gritted teeth.

The hand remained on him for several more moments. Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to beg. He managed to turn his head towards Michael, looking him straight in the eyes. Michael chuckled, then released him and stood up.

Toreth let out his breath, blinking back the tears. Damn, that had fucking hurt!

“Smile pretty for the camera, concubine.”

Toreth held still as Michael took the pictures. “There, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

“Are you holding me for ransom? Is that what this is about? Because if you are, you’re wasting your time. Warrick isn’t about to risk his precious SimTech by breaking the corporate accords and paying a ransom. I mean, I know I’m a good fuck, but I’m not that good. SimTech’s what matters most to him, not me.”

“I think you underestimate your value to him. We’ve been watching you for a while now. If we didn’t think he’d pay, we wouldn’t have bothered doing this. Now, I have to go and send these off, then wait for your boyfriend to call, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Wait! Can I have something to drink?”

“I don’t have anything with me. I’ll bring some bottled water when I come back. Oh, and don’t bother to yell. There isn’t anyone around to hear – at least not anyone who’d help you.”

Michael left, turning out the light, leaving Toreth alone in the dark. His balls ached, his arms and legs were stiff, he was cold, and he was thirsty.

He was going to kill that bastard the first chance he got.

~*~

Warrick had been up until midnight – seventeen straight hours, trying to work out what had suddenly gone wrong with the sim unit. It didn’t make sense. It had been working perfectly last week and it seemed to be working fine for him now, every time he ran a new set of diagnostics. He had to finally give up, going back to the hotel to get some sleep. He knew himself well enough by now, that when he got too exhausted, his brain shut down and he could no longer think clearly.

He’d slept until seven, showered, dressed, and was on his way to have breakfast in the hotel restaurant when the front-desk clerk called him over.

“An envelope was delivered for you about thirty minutes ago, Dr. Warrick. I called your room but there was no answer.”

He must have been in the shower and didn’t hear the comm. The envelope was from SimTech, the standard logo and return address in the upper left-hand corner. It was probably from Asher, some document that required his signature and couldn’t be sent via hand screen, although she hadn’t mentioned sending anything when they’d talked yesterday afternoon. He tucked it under his arm and proceeded to the restaurant. He needed coffee before he would feel clear-headed enough to read through any work-related documents.

The waitress took his order, pouring him a cup of coffee before she left. He took several sips – good, but not as good as what he made at home – then opened the envelope, getting ready to settle in for a read.

When he saw the photos, he first thought it was Toreth’s idea of trying to torment him, making him see what he’d missed out on by not coming home yesterday – two photos of Toreth, naked, his wrists and ankles manacled and chained to the four corners of a bed. He loved the image of Toreth in chains, but they didn’t do anything for Toreth, so they rarely played that way.

Then he found the small, typed note:

 _We have something of yours.  
Call +441 020-1808-4343 before noon  
if you want it returned undamaged. _

Warrick’s hands started to shake, his vision going gray at the edges. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten yet or he’d have lost his breakfast right then and there. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths, willing his racing heart to slow down. A good five minutes passed before enough strength returned to his legs so that he could stand and return to his room. He took out his comm and carefully input the number. A man’s voice answered – audio only, unsurprisingly.

“Dr. Warrick. We’ve been expecting your call. I take it you received the photos and you understand what we have.”

“Yes, I received them. What do you want?”

“It’s simple enough – one million euros. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting your hands on that amount, considering the payment you received this year from Compagnie des Alpes.”

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have cash like that lying about the flat. I have to wait until Monday when the bank opens.”

“Don’t try and play us for fools. You wouldn’t go through regular banking channels for this – the last thing you want is for the Confederation of European Corporations to find out that you’re paying a ransom. You have forty-eight hours to make the payment, or you can fish your concubine out of the river. And you know how he feels about drowning.”

“Please –” Warrick stopped. His voice cracked. He couldn’t lose it, not now, not while talking to this man. He had to stay focused on what mattered most – getting Toreth back, safe and alive. He swallowed hard, then tried again. “Please. Don’t hurt him. I’ll get you the money. I promise.”

“Very good, Dr. Warrick. There will be another envelope sent to your flat. It contains an unregistered comm. You will receive a call early Monday morning with further instructions. You should return to New London now. There isn’t anything wrong with your sim unit – the diagnostic report was falsified. You don’t have to spend any more time in Strasbourg working on it.”

“How did you – ? You planned this, to keep me here, away from Toreth.”

“Go home, Dr. Warrick. Your lover is safe as long as you do what we say.”

Before Warrick had time to reply, the comm link went dead.

~*~

The flight from Strasbourg to New London seemed to take forever, the taxi from the airport to the flat even longer. Warrick would normally have occupied the time by reading or doing some programming, but today he couldn’t concentrate. Today, all he could think about were the photos of Toreth, naked and bound, helpless, vulnerable. So many times he’d fantasized of Toreth being in that exact position – it had been such a turn-on. Now, his stomach churned as he thought of the real danger Toreth was in.

They’d never talked about this happening, although they were both aware of the possibility. The chances were small that anyone would attack Toreth directly, since even pro sabs would be wary of tangling with one of I&I’s own. Still, the latest threat assessment had shown that because of the contract with Compagnie des Alpes, the likelihood had increased because the potential payoff had increased too.

One million euros. At one time it would have been an impossible sum to raise, at least in a legitimate manner. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with Toreth, five or six months after they’d met. Toreth had been working on the Sofie Kenward kidnapping. He’d asked Warrick what he would do if it were his niece, Valeria, who’d been kidnapped and held for a million euro ransom.

Corporations that paid a ransom in any way were breaking the corporate accords, civil law written by the Confederation of European Corporations, defining how corporations operated and behaved. Penalties for breaking the accords were stiff: loss of personal corporate status, sometimes the delisting of the corporation itself. Because SimTech subscribes to the corporate accords, he’d told Toreth he wouldn’t be able to pay, even if he did have a million euros. He’d have to sell his SimTech stock, which would raise too many red flags and he’d be stopped.

At the end of their conversation, he’d admitted that there were other ways he could get the money, selling some of SimTech’s proprietary hardware or software. When Toreth had asked if he’d actually do it, he’d had to admit he really didn’t know.

“I hope I would have the – the discipline necessary to trust our security people could locate and retrieve her in time.”

He simply couldn’t imagine risking the loss of his corporate status, the loss of SimTech, in order to pay a ransom. It had been, after all, a hypothetical question.

Now, the hypothetical had become real.

A large manila envelope had been left for him with building security. He went to his office and sat down at his desk to open it. It was the comm, along with a note, repeating what he’d been told earlier that morning:

 _You will be called on Monday morning and given drop-off instructions.  
No money, no property. _

Warrick closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the leather chair. Taking a deep breath, then another, he forced himself to be calm. He had planned for this day. He’d hoped he’d never have to put the plan into action, but now that the day had arrived, he knew what he had to do.

He rose from his chair and walked over to the wall where the framed painting of Toreth hung, the one Cele had given him as a house-warming gift. He stared at it a moment, remembering when he’d first unwrapped it. He’d never seen such raw emotion on Toreth’s face before, not even during sex, in the throes of an orgasm. He reached out, moving his fingers over Toreth’s lips. So many times he’d wanted to tell Toreth how he felt, but speaking of feelings was taboo, a surefire way of causing Toreth to bolt. Paying the ransom, though, would be irrefutable proof of those feelings – there was no way Toreth would stay with him with a debt like that hanging between them. Warrick would be rescuing Toreth, only to lose him in the end.

He moved his hand away from Toreth’s mouth, took hold of the frame and lifted it from its hook on the wall, carefully setting it on the floor. Behind where the painting had hung was a small wall safe, protected by both a palm reader and iris scanner, opening only to him. He reached inside and pulled out a thick folder. Only four people – Asher, Lew, Emma Queen, and he – knew of its existence and what was inside: Dr. Keir Warrick, Personal Security Assessment and Protocols.

He took the folder over to his desk, scanned the table of contents, and turned to the section detailing what to do if Toreth was ever kidnapped.

He began making the first call.

~*~

Toreth couldn’t tell how long he’d been here. At least they hadn’t chained him to the wall the way Jonny Kemp had done, although his back, arms, and legs were starting to go numb from being in the same position for so long. He tried to shift his weight, turning to the side, but there was no give in the chains. The only thing he could move freely was his head.

He’d fallen back to sleep for a while, mostly out of boredom, but also to avoid having to think about what was going to happen to him. He didn’t need to be a genius like Warrick to know that they planned to kill him. Pro sabs blindfolded their victims or kept them drugged if they intended to release them, so they couldn’t be identified later. Some even used voice synthesizers so that their voices couldn’t be recognized. Seventeen years after she’d been taken, Gina Finn had been able to identify Marcos Barrow as the man who’d kidnapped her when she’d heard his voice on an interrogation recording. The fact that Michael hadn’t cared that Toreth recognized him said it all.

What if Michael didn’t come back? If Warrick refused to negotiate, the simplest thing to do would be to leave him here to die. Or, as soon as Warrick paid, they’d take the money and run. He’d last maybe a week without water, if he were lucky.

He tried pulling on the chains again, hoping to find a weakness in the bed frame, but it held solid. All he got for his effort were bruised wrists. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Even though Michael had said that no one would hear, he tried shouting for help until his throat hurt. No one came. In fact, the only sound he heard was water moving slowly nearby. No car horns honking, no dogs barking, no people talking – nothing. He could be miles away from New London, or he could be in one of the restricted areas of the old city. God, if he was, he hoped it had been decontaminated – the river areas had been some of the first to be cleared and decontaminated, but there was always a chance that he was in a place that had been missed.

He must have dozed off because he didn’t hear Michael’s footsteps or notice when the door opened. He started when the light went on.

“Well, concubine, you’ll be pleased to know Dr. Warrick agreed to buy you back. Maybe you’re a better fuck than you think. We’ve got time to kill before payment is due, so…” He trailed off, giving Toreth a lascivious look.

Just great. The man planned to fuck him first before killing him.

“Did you bring me any water?” Shit – his voice sounded hoarse from all his shouting. From the way Michael looked at him, he knew that was exactly what Toreth had been doing.

“I told you it was a waste of time to scream. I ought to not give this to you for disobeying me.” He held out the bottle of water for Toreth to see.

Fucking sadistic bastard. Toreth turned his face away. He would _not_ beg.

“Oh, come now. Don’t be like that. Here, you can have some water. I even brought a straw to make it easier for you to drink.”

Michael sat on the bed, twisting the bottle’s white plastic cap and breaking the seal, then inserted the straw. At least Toreth didn’t have to worry about the water being drugged. He tilted his head up and Michael placed the straw to his lips.

Damn, the water tasted good. He took several long swallows. He didn’t want to make himself sick, so he forced himself to stop, even though he was still thirsty. He let go of the straw and laid his head back down on the bed. He hated saying it, but it might make things easier for him later. “Thanks.”

Michael set the bottle down on the floor, but didn’t leave. He reached out, grabbing Toreth by the hair and forcing his face up, then leaned in and kissed him. Toreth tried to twist his head away, but Michael’s hold was too strong. He bit Toreth’s lower lip until Toreth relented, opening his mouth and allowing Michael’s tongue inside. Oh, how he wanted to bite the bastard’s tongue off!

When Michael pulled away, his lips were swollen and red, his pupils dilated, practically black, his breathing hard and fast.

“I’ve been watching you for months, following you around to bars, seeing you leave with a different person each time. I don’t know why Dr. Warrick puts up with it. If I were him, I’d have you exactly like this, chained to my bed, where I’d fuck you every night. I’d never let anyone else touch you, and I’d never let you go.”

Michael’s free hand wrapped around Toreth’s soft cock, massaging it to life, using slow, teasing strokes. “I think it’s time I found out what it feels like to fuck a million euro concubine.”

Toreth’s stomach lurched. He told himself he could get through this. It didn’t mean anything.

It was just a fuck.

It didn’t mean anything.

If he repeated it enough times, he might even believe it.

~*~

Warrick couldn’t be sure that the flat wasn’t being watched by whoever had taken Toreth. It wouldn’t look out of place for Asher and Lew to come by. As long as he didn’t do anything that would keep him from paying the ransom, Toreth would be safe.

They sat in the library, Warrick behind his desk, Lew and Asher on the other side. They looked as miserable as he felt.

“Keir, you don’t have to do this,” Asher said, practically in tears. “SimTech is your life. I don’t care what the protocol says. We’ll find a way to pay the ransom that won’t draw any attention to us.”

“It’s just a precaution. I have the money. I’ve been putting some aside each year, ever since…well, ever since I had to think about what I’d do if someone I cared about were taken. If I don’t resign from the board and I get caught paying, it could be the end of SimTech. And renouncing my corporate status assures that there can be no question that I’m acting on my own, independent from SimTech. If everything goes well, you can shred the documents.”

“What about the theme park?” Lew asked. “The contract requires you to oversee the installation and certification of the first year’s units.”

“I won’t be violating the contract as long as I remain an employee of SimTech – I don’t have to have corporate status for that. I’m obligated to be there in my role as programmer, not director. Compagnie des Alpes could cancel the contract if SimTech were to be delisted. My resignation will keep that from happening.

“These are just precautions. Think of them as insurance – something to have in case tragedy strikes, but hopefully won’t have to be used. If things go badly, file the documents with the Confederation of European Corporations, and SimTech is in the clear.”

“Does Dillian know about this?” Asher asked.

Warrick looked down at his hands for a moment, then back up to Asher. “We established the protocols for a reason – that if something were to happen, we might be too emotionally distraught to make clear decisions. With the protocols, the decisions have already been made. We just have to follow them. As much as I don’t like to keep secrets from Dillian, telling her about this is not part of this protocol.”

They were all silent for a moment, then Lew said, “You’re right, of course. Everything you’re doing is by the book. What good is having the protocols if the first time we need one, we ignore it.”

Asher looked from Lew, then back to Warrick. “All right. We’ll follow the protocol. I’m just sorry that you had to be the first test of their effectiveness.”

They all stood up. Warrick walked them to the door.

“Good luck on Monday,” Asher said. “Let us know as soon as you’re home safe.” She gave Warrick a quick hug, then turned away, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes.

Lew held out his hand. “Be careful. You’re the most brilliant man I know. I have every confidence that you can pull this off.”

Once they’d left, he returned to the office. He had one more person to call – the head of SimTech security.

Emma Queen’s face appeared on the comm screen. “Dr. Warrick. I received your earlier message. I’ve got the security team on alert and ready to move the moment we receive final confirmation of the target’s location.”

“Very good. I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work.”

“Just doing my job, Dr. Warrick.”

“Emma, if we get through this, you can retire anywhere you want, with full pay and benefits for life.”

“Dr. Warrick, there’s no ‘if’ about it. I put in a lot of time and effort, analyzing and sifting through years of data, interviewing parties involved, running computer simulations, what-if scenarios – the protocols are the result. I believe in them, the way you believe in the sim. We’ll get Toreth back, and no one will ever know about a ransom or who was involved. And you know I love SimTech too much to retire. You should get some rest. You look exhausted.”

The comm screen went dark, reflecting his image back at him. She was right – he looked awful.

He couldn’t face sleeping in their bed without Toreth, so he went out to the living room and lay down on the sofa. There was nothing to do now but wait for Monday morning. He might as well try and get some sleep.

~*~

Toreth didn’t know how he’d got through it. Actually, he’d had worse things done to him at the Retraining Center. In comparison, Michael hadn’t been that bad. He was a talented lover, that was for sure – and considerate, in a way. Whenever he got off, he made sure Toreth did too. Sometimes it had almost felt good. Michael had fucked him three times, and in order to do so he’d had to unchain Toreth’s ankles, which was a relief in itself. He’d momentarily considered trying to kick out and disable Michael in some way, but before he’d had a chance to try, Michael had a knife at his throat.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he’d said. “Don’t bother. You’ll only make me angry, then I’d have to hurt you. I’d much rather fuck you.”

So Toreth didn’t fight him, and the time passed in a blur of kisses and bites, blowjobs and handjobs, fucking and coming.

Finally, it was Monday morning, and he was alone. It seemed like hours ago that Michael had left to call Warrick and tell him where to leave the money. He didn’t hold out much hope that Michael would be back for him, though. He pulled hard against the chains, again and again, until finally he gave up, defeated. His wrists were raw and bleeding where the metal edges of the manacles had cut into the soft skin.

He’d faced his own death several times. There had been the SimTech case and Psychoprogramming, Jonny Kemp, Theo in Greece, Carnac and the resisters, Leo Warrick and Citizen Surveillance… Somehow, he wasn’t so much upset at the thought of dying here, alone, in the dark, but that Warrick, and Sara, might never know what had happened to him, that his body would never be found.

His eyes began to sting. He blinked a few times, swallowing hard, getting himself back under control. He _wouldn’t_ give up, not until he took his last breath.

The light came on, startling Toreth out of his thoughts. Michael was there, standing in the doorway – he couldn’t believe it. “You came back?”

“Of course I came back. Did you think I wouldn’t? I told you your boyfriend was paying up. Karen called and said he’ll be here soon, so I’m going to unchain you so you can get dressed.” He threw Toreth’s clothes on the end of the bed between his feet. “But before I do, I’m telling you right now that if you try anything, I have a gun.” He held it up for Toreth to see. “And I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Is that clear?”

Toreth nodded mutely. Fucking hell – Warrick was coming here, which meant they were going to kill him too.

Michael unlocked the manacles, then stepped back, leaning against the wall, gun in hand. The man wasn’t taking any chances.

It was difficult to move at first, his muscles stiff from disuse. He stretched, trying to work some feeling back into them, then slowly began to dress. He couldn’t imagine what he must look like after being in this room for two days – or smell like. God, would Warrick be able to smell Michael on him? He was good with things like that…he’d known about Carnac… What would Toreth say if Warrick confronted him about it?

Michael’s comm buzzed. He was subvocalizing, so Toreth didn’t know what was being said, but by the look on Michael’s face, he could guess.

“Okay, concubine, your boyfriend’s here. But before we go…turn around, hands behind your back.”

Toreth felt cold steel close around his wrists and hissed in pain as the metal touched his raw skin. Handcuffs! Could this get any fucking worse?

Michael pressed the gun into the small of his back as they left the room. They walked down a short hallway, stopping at a metal door with a push bar. Daylight seeped in from underneath.

“Open the door, slowly. Remember, unless you want a bullet in your spine, just do as I say. No heroics. You’re almost home free. Don’t fuck it up now.”

Toreth pressed the bar with his hip and pushed open the door, squinting against the sudden bright light. Then his eyes adjusted, and he froze.

“Oh, fuck.” It just got worse.

They were on some sort of fishing pier or boat dock, built out over the river. A narrow walkway, about a meter wide, was the only way to shore.

“Why did you stop?” Michael asked.

Because I have a phobia about drowning and I hate being over the fucking water where all you have to do is give me a shove and I’ll fall in. “The light – it’s just really bright and it blinded me for a moment.”

“Okay, well…get moving. Dr. Warrick’s waiting.”

And that’s when Toreth saw him, standing on shore.

It seemed like an eternity as they made their way along the walkway. Every step they took made it bounce precariously. With his hands cuffed behind his back, Toreth had a hard time keeping his balance. But he forced himself forward, trying to not think about the water flowing beneath him, trying to stay focused on his goal – Warrick.

They had to be in a restricted area. Crumbling buildings and debris dotted the landscape. It was totally deserted, no one about to witness the transaction. He could hear the sounds of the city off in the distance, though, so they couldn’t be too far from New London.

“Dr. Warrick, I’m glad that you can follow instructions. My partner has been following you, and confirmed that you came alone. Now, open the case so that I can verify you’ve actually placed euros inside. And please, don’t do anything stupid. I have a gun pointed at your lover’s back – I won’t hesitate to shoot if I feel threatened in any way.”

Warrick set the briefcase flat on the ground, flipped the latches up and opened the lid. Inside were neatly stacked packets of hundred euro bills. Warrick looked up at Michael. “Satisfied?”

“That’s fine. Leave the case there and move away from it.”

Michael pushed Toreth forward. “Okay, concubine. You can go over and join your boyfriend.”

Toreth walked towards Warrick. Any moment he expected to hear a shot, to feel the bullet ripping through his back, but nothing happened. Just before he reached Warrick, he turned around, using his body as best he could to keep Warrick shielded from Michael. “You have the money,” he said. “Just go. If you kill us, you’ll have all of I&I along with SimTech security hunting your arse.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, concubine. I have my orders. I don’t know what you’ve done to anger someone so badly that they want you both dead, but…” He shrugged, then raised the gun and pointed it directly at Toreth’s chest.

He heard the shot at the same time hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him to the ground. A second shot, then a third.

Toreth was pinned under Warrick’s body – had he been shot?

“Warrick! Oh God, please no –”

“Stay down!” Warrick hissed. “It’s SimTech security. I’m fine. Just stay down until they reach us.”

But the gunfire had stopped. Toreth could hear shouting now, the sound of heavy boots on rock, coming towards them fast.

“Hold your fire! Gunman down! He’s down!”

“Dr. Warrick! It’s Queen – are you okay?”

Toreth felt the tension in Warrick’s body, arms wrapped tightly over his back, his face buried in Toreth’s neck. It was too much like a hug and Toreth wanted to tell him to get off. But fuck it – it felt good. He’d almost died, so he could make an exception this one time.

“Dr. Warrick – are you okay?” Queen asked again.

Warrick sighed, then rolled off Toreth and onto his back. He sat up, resting his arms across bended knees. Toreth, still lying face down on the ground, watched Warrick as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

He’d never seen Warrick look more beautiful than he did in that moment – such raw emotion, visible to all the world. Then the mask came down, and Warrick, the SimTech director, was back in charge.

“I’m fine, Queen.” He looked at Toreth. “How about you? Are you okay?”

“You can get these fucking handcuffs off me for a start. And my wrists are pretty bad. I could use some painkillers if you have some.”

“The car’s coming down to take you home. Should I send a doctor to the flat?” Queen asked.

Warrick looked at Toreth, who shook his head.

Warrick turned back to Queen. “No, Just get us out of here. You’ll take care of things?”

She nodded. “I’ll call you with my report when we’re done.”

One of the black-clad security guards finally came over with a key for the handcuffs. Toreth examined his wrists. They looked as bad as Warrick’s had when they’d first started using the cabinet. Well, he’d have to dig into Warrick’s arsenal of anti-inflammatories and painkillers for the next few days, but he didn’t think there’d be any permanent damage.

“Are you ready?” Warrick asked. “The car’s here.”

Toreth looked around. The place was swarming with a dozen SimTech security guards. “I thought Michael said you weren’t followed. Where did all the security come from?”

Warrick hesitated. “It’s a long story. I think we’d be more comfortable talking about it back at the flat. There’s someone in the car who wants to see you, and I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer.”

“Sara?”

“You don’t think I could keep something like _this_ from her? She’d kill me. Besides, she covered for you today. No one at I &I knows what happened. She told them since you didn’t have any important cases that you were spending the day at home with me because I’d had to stay in Strasbourg over the weekend, working.”

They had to climb up to street level to get to the car. The easiest way up was past Michael’s body, now covered by a tarp. Toreth wondered if they’d ever find out who it was that wanted to kill them, and if they’d be targeted again.

“Toreth!” Sara had jumped out of the car and was running towards him. All thoughts of Michael and unknown corporate assassins left his mind.

What mattered most now was that he was alive, and he was going home.

~*~

As soon as they entered the flat, Toreth went upstairs to take a shower. Warrick called Asher to tell her they were home safe – best to get those documents shredded as soon as possible – then went into the kitchen and started making some soup. Toreth had said he hadn’t eaten since Friday evening, so Warrick thought something light would be best. He was sitting at the kitchen table when Toreth appeared, wearing one of Warrick’s dressing gowns, his hair still damp. He stopped in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“How did SimTech security get there so quickly, without being detected? Karen followed you to see if you brought any security with you. She would have seen them approaching.”

Warrick rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could avoid telling Toreth about most of the details of what he’d had to do – resigning from the board, renouncing his corporate status, the protocols – but he couldn’t avoid telling Toreth the truth about how they’d found him.

“They weren’t regular SimTech security. They’re a highly trained, highly paid, elite special team. SimTech put the team together after the last threat assessment. And they weren’t spotted by Karen because they hadn’t come with me. They were already on-site. They’d been in place since early Sunday morning.”

Warrick could see him thinking things through, Toreth’s eyes narrowing as he worked it out. “Warrick – how did they know where to go?”

Warrick sighed. “Because I was able to track you.”

“You did what? How? I know you didn’t put a chip in me, unless you did it while I was asleep.” He paused. “Or in the sim. You did it while I was in the sim, didn’t you? I wouldn’t feel it then. When did you do it? The last time I was there was in March – you said you wanted to show me one of the theme park rides. Is that when?”

Toreth was angry now, moving his hands behind his back – not a good sign. Warrick prayed that he would listen this time. “It’s not a chip, not exactly. I tried to explain it before, but you were so upset by the idea of being tracked that I didn’t bring it up again.”

“Fine,” Toreth said through gritted teeth. Enunciating each word, he said, “Tell me about it now.”

“Well, with traditional chips, pro sabs simply scan your body. If they get a reading, they know you have a chip. I started thinking about the problem one day while I was working on a new full-body scanner for the sim. Without getting too technical – I used modified sim hardware and software, tapped into the traffic control network, and was able to locate you based on the full-body scan I did on you in March. Because they took you to a restricted area, I couldn’t pinpoint your exact location. The security team had to go in with several miniaturized units and scan until they found you, which was early Sunday morning. They didn’t attempt a rescue because they couldn’t be sure that the building you were in wasn’t booby-trapped in some way. Three sharpshooters set up in different locations – and waited. I wanted to take Michael alive, but when it looked like he was going to shoot us, they took him out.”

Warrick waited for Toreth to say something, but he just stood there, staring. At least he didn’t look angry anymore, and he wasn’t running out the door.

“Toreth, I’m sorry for not telling you. It’s not trivial to do, not to mention the illegality of hacking the traffic control network, so if you’re worried I’d try and track you when you – go out at night – I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.”

A few more minutes passed in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Toreth said, “When I was in that building, I worried that if I died, you’d never find my body. I guess I worried for nothing.”

Toreth moved to the kitchen table and sat down across from Warrick. “That smells good. What is it?”

“Homemade chicken soup. Would you like some?”

“Did you eat some already?”

“Yes. Sorry I didn’t wait. I didn’t have any breakfast and I was hungry.”

“So, technically, it’s after breakfast now, right?” Toreth asked.

Warrick raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you could say so.”

Toreth smiled. “Good. Do you want to fuck?”

~*~

It was late Thursday afternoon, three days after Toreth had been rescued. Warrick was reviewing Emma Queen’s preliminary report.

Karen had never been found. They’d gone to the flat where Toreth said she lived, but it had been scrubbed clean. The storage building where Toreth had been held had plenty of Michael’s DNA, but there was no record of him in any of the databases Queen had searched. Warrick had tried a few searches of his own, with the same results; it was as if he’d never existed.

Michael had kept using the term ‘concubine’ when referring to Toreth. It wasn’t a term normally used in everyday language. Queen’s research had turned up the fact that at I&I, Toreth’s nickname was ‘the corporate’s concubine’, so had noted it as a possible work connection.

That, along with being unable to find any trace of who Michael had really been, pointed worrisomely to Int-Sec – and Citizen Surveillance. Queen had no knowledge of Warrick and Toreth’s history with Cit Surveillance, so no mention of it was made in the report, thank goodness.

He was reading over a paragraph that she’d flagged. She’d been unsure whether or not it should stay in the final report. She was leaving the decision up to him.

 _“Evidence of sexual assault of victim was found. Semen stains on bedding identified as that of the kidnapper and the victim. Recommend evaluation and counseling.”_

Had Michael raped Toreth? And if he had, would Toreth even see it that way? Warrick doubted it, based on how Toreth viewed the things that had been done to him at the Retraining Center.

They’d had sex every day since Toreth had been rescued. Toreth was perhaps a bit more – clingy – afterwards, but other than that, things seemed fine. For now, he’d just have to wait and see.

He deleted the paragraph, closed the file, and sent it back to Queen.

~ Fin 2011-12-22 ~


End file.
